The SubBasement Rescue
by mcatB
Summary: Several firefighters are trapped as a building collapses


"Station 51, Station 23, Station 48, Truck 110. Structure fire. Mod-Chem Labs. 5412 Industrial Park Terrace. Time out 1013," announced the LA County Dispatcher. 

"Station 51, KMG365," Captain Stanley acknowledged before hanging up the microphone. 

He handed the address sheet to Roy, who was waiting in the squad before heading to the passenger side of the engine. Soon both vehicles were on their way, lights and sirens blazing their way through the traffic. 

When the men of Station51 arrived at the fire scene, they were directed to do the victim searches of the facility. It was unknown if any people were still inside the burning structure. 

"Gage, DeSoto," Stanley called. "You two take the basement. Kelly, Lopez, you two take the sub-basement. Stoker and I will start on the first floor," he ordered after consulting the building's floor plans. 

"Right, Cap," they all answered. 

Chet groaned as he and Marco headed toward the building. Marco looked at him, questioningly. 

"The sub-basement?" he remarked. "Shows you how we rate," he added. 

"Come on," Marco lamented, shaking his head. 

The two followed Johnny and Roy into the building. Stanley and Stoker followed shortly afterwards. 

About a half an hour later Chet felt Marco tug on his sleeve and he turned around to look at him. 

"Face it, Chet. We're lost," Marco said, his voice muffled behind is mask. 

Chet looked up and down the hallway. Each door had been chalked, meaning they had already checked it. This place was like a labyrinth. They seemed to be going in circles. He hated doing sweeps looking for victims. He didn't know how Gage and DeSoto did this all the time. They were one floor above them doing the same thing. He and Marco had drawn the sub-basement to check out (isn't one basement enough?). He'd rather be upstairs fighting the fire with the other three companies that were battling the inferno. At least then he could follow the hose back outside if he had to. But not all the scientists were accounted for outside so someone had to look for them. The people that worked in these labs must have had some kind of code to find their way around, he thought. Every hall and every door were identical to every other one as near as he could tell. 

"I think we checked them all. All we've got to do is get back to the stairway and go back up," Chet told Marco. 

"So where's the stairway?" he replied, a touch of panic in his voice. 

They both knew that the alarms in their regulators were due to go off at any second. Then they would have only minutes of breathable air left. The fire upstairs had filled the whole place with any number of lethal toxins. 

"It's got to be around here someplace. We didn't mark it. Just look for the door with no chalk on it," Chet said. 

"Now why didn't _I_ think of that?" Marco asked sarcastically – it was what he had been doing for the last ten minutes. 

Before Chet could make a snappy comeback, though, there was a distinctive rumble overhead. They both knew what it was. There was no time to even run. They both crouched down into a fetal position and covered their heads with their arms. They each wanted to be as small a target as possible since the entire ceiling was caving in! 

Marco knew exactly when the rumbling stopped. He knew exactly when the ceiling was done collapsing. He knew exactly when the pain of his injuries hit him. It wasn't when the silence came. It was when that silence was broken by drops of red liquid hitting his facemask. Fear came to him once again. He tried to move. To get away from the drops. But he couldn't, he was pinned to the floor by beams and debris from the ceiling and floor above him. He swallowed and finally looked upward. He had to find out where and from whom the blood was coming from. He saw two legs hanging down, entangled in the ceiling joists. One of them was covered in blood – the blood that was still steadily dripping down onto his mask. Marco closed his eyes and said a prayer in his native Spanish tongue before looking back up. 

"Johnny? Roy?" he called tentatively, knowing it was one of them. 

"Marco?" he heard in response, but not from the figure above him. 

Chet was calling him from just a few feet away, to his right. 

"Chet? That you?" he called. 

"Yeah, pal. You okay?" Chet asked. 

"No, I can't move. I think my shoulder's broken. I'm pinned by the ceiling debris. How about you?" Marco responded. 

He heard Chet moving around, groaning, and getting up. 

"Yeah, I think I'm okay. I just – oh shit!" he exclaimed. 

Marco saw him looking up. 

"Who is it?" Marco asked. 

"I don't know," Chet replied, walking over to Marco. 

Chet tried to lift the beam on top of Marco, failed. 

"Chet?" Marco questioned, not knowing how to ask Chet to keep the blood from dripping on him. 

Chet understood. He found a ceiling tile and propped it over Marco's head, deflecting the drops. 

"I'm going for help. I'll be right back, promise," Chet said, squeezing Marco's arm to reassure him. 

Chet found the stairs quickly. 

'Geez, where were you ten minutes ago,' he thought as he climbed them. 

He just about ran head on into Dougie Parsons when he reached the basement level. 

"Chet! You okay?" Dougie asked. 

"Yeah, but Marco's trapped, and we need new air tanks, too," he replied. "Who's stuck?" he added, motioning to the group of firefighters behind Dougie. 

"Johnny," he answered. 

"His leg's bleeding pretty bad, from what we could see from below," Chet told him. 

"Yeah, he's stuck pretty good. We can't get him out from up here," Dougie responded. "Look, you go get a couple of fresh tanks, I'll head down below," he added. 

Chet quickly glanced at Johnny. Roy was fastening a harness around his chest to keep him from falling through to the sub-basement. Dougie's partner, Doug Bedoski, was helping him. 

Dougie found his way to Marco, easily finding him under the blood splattered ceiling tile. 

"Hey, Marco. Don't worry, the troops are coming," he said. "How you holding up?" 

"I'm still here," Marco replied pain in his voice. "You gonna get me out of here, or what?" 

Dougie looked around, looked up at Johnny. 

"As soon as we can, Marco. As soon as we can," he said before picking up his handy-talky. "HT 23 to Engine 23," he called. "Cap, we're going to need a folding ladder and the sawz-all down here in the sub-basement. 

"10-4 HT 23," his Captain replied. 

"HT 23 to HT 51," he called, now wanting to tell Roy what things looked like from his view. 

"HT 51, go ahead," Roy replied 

"Roy, it looks like he's got his right leg tangled up in the ceiling joists. It's bleeding pretty badly. I've got the sawz-all coming down. We're going to have to cut him out. Have Doug-Doug send some bandages down here, too. I'll see if I can stop the bleeding first," he reported. 

"10-4 HT 23," Roy replied, obvious distress in his voice. 

Roy looked down at his partner. He knew he must have been hurt pretty badly. He was already showing the early signs of shock. But from where he was, he couldn't see the injury, much less try and treat it. He'd have to trust Dougie to do that for him. Roy felt Johnny starting to move about. He heard the soft moans coming from under the facemask. 

"Easy, partner, don't move," Roy soothed. 

"Roy?" Johnny, called, pain etched into his voice. 

Roy took hold of Johnny, hoping to prevent him from falling or hurting himself even worse. 

"Johnny, hold still. I gotcha," he said. 

"Roy, my leg," he moaned. "Oh God, it hurts!!" he cried, biting his lip. 

"I know, I know," Roy responded. "We're gonna get you out of here real soon," he added. 

Roy looked up and watched as a group of firefighters headed down the stairs to the sub-basement carrying equipment. 

"What about me? Can't you get me out of here?" Marco asked, in pain and tired of being under the wreckage. 

"Sorry, Marco," Chet replied switching the hoses on Marco's old tank to a new one. "Looks like that beam on you is holding up the joist Johnny's tangled in. We move it and Johnny drops or gets his leg torn off," he added. 

Marco nodded solemnly. 

"Roy! I'm heading up to try and bandage the leg now, if I can," Dougie called into his handy-talky. 

Dougie climbed the ladder, gear in hand. He reached Johnny's legs and started cutting the seams on his turnout pants. That was the easy part. Next he had to cut the thick rubber boots off. He didn't dare try to pull them off and risk further injury and pain to his fellow paramedic. He began cutting the boot, trying his best not to move Johnny's let too much. Despite his efforts, Johnny still let out a couple of loud cries, especially when Dougie finally got the boot off. 

"Sorry, Johnny, but I had to do it," he said, mostly to himself. 

By this time, Captain Stanley and Stoker had arrived and started to remove some of the debris near Johnny. They were clear enough so they could see down into the sub-basement and see Dougie working. They set up a spotlight so he could see better. 

"Hey, Cap? How are they doing with the fire?" Dougie asked, hoping they had time to do this extrication right. 

"They're concentrating on this section of the building, until we get these guys out. The rest of it's going to hell," he replied. 

Chet sat down next to Marco. 

"How ya holding up, pal?" he asked. 

"I'm still here," Marco replied, tiredly. 

"See what happens when you get stuck with the sub-basement assignment?" Chet asked light-heartedly, hoping to improve Marco's morale. 

"Oh, like Johnny's doing so much better in the regular basement," Marco replied, defeat in his voice. 

Chet didn't know how to respond to that. He looked up and watched as Dougie worked on Johnny's leg. 

"Pretty soon, pal. Pretty soon. As soon as they get Johnny out of there, you'll be next," he finally said, patting Marco's arm. 

Roy was struggling with Johnny, trying to keep him from moving around. He was getting very agitated, the pain and shock taking their toll. 

"Come on, Johnny. Hold still," he said, gripping him tighter. "How's it going, Dougie?" he called down. 

"He's got an avulsion about four inches wide just below his knee!" Dougie returned. "Feels like the fibula's broken, too!" he added. 

"How much longer!" Johnny yelled out, to no one in particular. 

"Just a little longer, Johnny," Roy said. "Dougie's gotta stabilize your leg, then he'll cut the joist." 

"Just as long as he's better with the sawz-all than he is with a soldering iron," Johnny yelled, moaning as he did so. 

"I heard that!" Dougie yelled back. 

A few minutes later they heard the sawz-all motor start up. 

"Okay, Johnny, time to hold real still," Roy instructed, adjusting his grip on Johnny. 

Johnny closed his eyes. He clenched his teeth as the vibrations caused his leg to shake, sending bolts of sharp pain up through his body. Roy tried to ignore his own pain as Johnny's hands tightened around his wrists, digging in. 

Finally the resistance was gone. Roy held on tight and carefully pulled Johnny up through the hole. Dougie guided his leg up and through until Captain Stanley could take a hold of it. They quickly placed Johnny into the waiting stokes and brought him outside. 

"Alright, let's get Marco out of there now!" Stanley yelled. 

He heard the sawz-all start up again and knew his order was unneeded. 

Chet stayed with Marco underneath a heavy tarp that protected them from some of the falling debris. The Dougs worked quickly and soon had the heavy beam off of Marco. He was loaded into another stokes and carried upstairs by Chet and Doug. Dougie took a quick look upward at the hole in the ceiling and the bloody ceiling tiles on the floor where Marco had been lying, before heading up and out himself. 

In the parking lot, where the medical staging area had been set up, Roy and Dougie started treating Johnny and Marco. They called Rampart and received orders for IV's and transport. Roy no sooner hung up the biophone than he heard the loud roar and rumble. The side of the building they had just been in five minutes before, was now a large pile of rubble. 


End file.
